Posessive
by TonksIsMyHero
Summary: When Munch discovers the body of a six-year-old girl, the team is led on a wild goose chase to find the perp. The introduction of a new detective only adds to the mystery. Slight Munch-Other Character implied (but NOT a shipper story at all). COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the following: Law and Order: SVU, Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, Donald Cragen, John Munch, Odafin Tutuola, Casey Novak, the "doink-doink", or anything else that has previously appeared on any of the Law and Order shows. I do, however, own the other stuff. But I really wish I owned the rest. Alas, I am forced to write fan fictions and just pretend. Don't steal my stuff. If you do, karma will bite you in the ass.

**CHAPTER ONE**

_In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories._

**DOINK-DOINK**

"Name is Jessica Turner, age six. Single stab wound to the abdomen, multiple burns to the arms and feet. Allergic to sulfur and penicillin. Detective, you're going to have to wait outside. As soon as we know anything, we'll tell you."

"She may have a concussion. Be sure to check for that!"

"We will. I'll let you know."

It had begun as simply a response to a report of a distrustful man hanging around the playground – a suspected pedophile. Detectives Odafin "Fin" Tutuola and John Munch had arrived on the scene to scope it out when Munch saw a little girl lying on the ground. He approached her to see whether she was okay and saw the blood staining her yellow dress. Now, after arriving at the hospital, Munch found himself barking orders to the paramedics in a desperate attempt to save the child.

"John," said Fin. "Come on, sit down."

"I can't sit down," Munch snapped back, watching the stretcher with the tiny form of Jessica Turner disappear. "Where's this kid's mother?"

"Could have been a dump job."

"In the playground at two o'clock in the afternoon?"

"You never know."

"Someone would have seen. Some freak stabbed this little girl and split."

"Look, we don't know anything yet. Just take a second and we'll figure it out."

Munch wheeled around and looked right into his partner's eyes. He didn't say anything, but fixed him with a steely glare that clearly said he wanted answers right away.

"Coffee? Decaf?" quipped Fin as he absented himself to allow Munch to calm down.

"Munch?"

Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler had arrived, along with Captain Donald Cragen. Olivia had been the one to call his name, and Munch saw the familiar look in her eyes that she got whenever a child was involved in a case.

"What's happening?" asked Elliot.

"Got a call about some park pervert. When we went to check it out, I found the little girl. Jessica Turner, six years old. She's been stabbed."

"God," said Cragen. "Stabbed?"

"Pretty badly, too," said Munch. "I don't know how she's doing."

Fin returned with the coffee.

"Hear anything yet?" he asked.

"It's been about twelve seconds since we got here. I have no idea. What the hell is this? Mocha?" said Munch, taking the coffee from his partner.

"How about you take your Midol and stop snapping at me?" Fin shot back.

"What's going on with you, Fin?"

"What do you mean?"

"We find a six-year-old girl almost dead in a playground and you're here acting like a heartless prick? Do you even care?"

Something flashed in Fin's eyes. "Yes, I care," he said, much more seriously. "I'm trying to distract myself until we find out more."

"Until then," said Cragen. "Let's check out the crime scene. Elliot, Olivia, would you?"

"Sure," said Elliot, and he left with Olivia.

"I'm going to see what I can do back at the station," said Cragen. "Call me as soon as you hear anything."

Cragen left. Nearly an hour passed before a young doctor came up to Fin and Munch. Both men stood to greet him.

"Is she okay, doc?" asked Munch.

"We lost her," said the doctor. "She lost too much blood and on top of that, she was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" repeated Fin as Munch sat back down. "With what?"

"Some sort of acid. My best guess is that your perp poured it into the wound."

"That's sick," Fin muttered.

"Thank you, doctor," said Munch.

"We contacted her parents. Good call noticing her ID bracelet, Detective Tutuola. I don't think we'd have seen it otherwise. They should be here any minute, so…they'll need to…you know," the doctor trailed off.

"ID the body. Right."

"Well," said the young doctor. "I'll let you do your job."

The doctor went off through the double doors. Fin sat down next to his partner. It was rare to see him in such a state. He looked as though it were his own child who had just died.

"Hey," said Fin. "We can let Elliot and Olivia take over here and go to the crime scene instead."

"No," said Munch. "I found the girl. I'm staying here."

"Excuse me, are you the police?"

The detectives looked up to see a terrified-looking woman being held by an equally scared man. They had to be the Turners. Mrs. Turner was holding a photograph of her daughter.

"Yes. I'm Detective Munch. This is my partner, Detective Tutuola. I assume you're here about Jessica?"

"Yes," said Mr. Turner. "Is she all right?"

Munch hated this part. "She passed away, sir."

Mrs. Turner began to sob. Her husband helped her into a chair and sat down next to her.

"What happened?"

"She was stabbed," said Fin.

"Oh, God!" Mrs. Turner burst out.

"I just don't…she was…where's Melissa?" asked Mr. Turner, looking dazed.

"Who, sir?" asked Fin.

"Her babysitter. Melissa Volley. She's a neighbor of ours. I don't see her here. Is she with Jessica?"

"We actually never saw her," said Munch.

"You can't find her?"

"We didn't know she was missing."

Fin gave Munch a Look and addressed Mrs. Turner. "Ma'am, I can't imagine how hard this is for you, but we do need you to identify your daughter. Do you think you can do it?"

Mrs. Turner nodded. Fin and Munch led the couple to the window where they could identify their tiny daughter's body.

"Take your time. No rush," said Munch. "Just look whenever you're ready, okay?"

Mr. Turner took a breath and turned. He choked on a gasp of air and twisted back around.

"It's her. Don't look, honey. It's her," he said.

"No, I have to see," said Mrs. Turner, and she looked at the lifeless form of her little girl.

It was a long moment. Munch and Fin looked at each other uncomfortably. Mr. Turner put a hand on his wife's shoulder and guided her away from the sight.

"Detectives?" Mrs. Turner asked in a broken voice.

"Yes, ma'am?" said Fin.

"When you find whoever did this to my little girl, shoot the bastard."


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own it.

**CHAPTER TWO**

**DOINK-DOINK**

Olivia and Elliot arrived at the crime scene. Scared parents and children swarmed around the outskirts of the police tape, chattering and craning for a look. An officer walked up to Olivia and shook her hand.

"Hi. Officer Marshall. Come with me?"

Marshall shook Elliot's hand and led the detectives over to the scene. Blood spattered the ground.

"Looks like your vic put up a bit of a fight. Not much of one, but as much as I guess she could, being so young."

"Anyone around who looks like they could have done this?" asked Elliot.

"Not from what I can tell. No one looks suspicious and no one was near the girl when your guy found her. Sorry. We'll keep looking."

Marshall was called over by another officer and left. Elliot and Olivia looked at each other.

"This make any sense to you?" said Olivia.

"No. One second she's playing on the swings, next second she's dying. I don't get it. What's behind it?"

"Sex?" Olivia offered.

"Liv, look…" said Elliot, kneeling down. He picked up a small card that was mostly obstructed from view by a large leaf. "It's a business card."

"Thomas Mayhew," said Olivia, noting the name. "He's a child psychologist."

"Let's check him out," said Elliot.

Olivia's phone rang. "Benson," she said, answering it.

Elliot kept looking as Olivia talked on her cell. He flipped the card over. On it was scrawled an address. Olivia hung up and joined Elliot.

"That was Munch. We need to find out about a Melissa Volley. Apparently she's Jessica's babysitter. No one knows where she is."

"Okay. There's an address on here. We should check that out, too," said Elliot, showing Olivia.

"Let's split up. Cover more ground."

"Okay. Be careful," said Elliot, ever the protective paternal type.

"She was stabbed twice and cut once. I'm not sure what kind of knife. It looks as though he stabbed and then pulled down to make the wound longer, so that makes it harder to determine the type of weapon."

Munch and Fin were at the ME's office. As Melinda Warner showed them her findings, Munch shifted uncomfortably. He never did like being in the office.

"What about the acid? Doctor said they found it in the wound," said Fin.

"They did. Sulfuric acid. Not a lot of it, but enough to cause it to eat away some of the flesh."

"Any sign of sexual trauma?" asked Munch.

"Yes," said Warner. "There's bruising around the thighs and damage to the hymen. My best guess is that your perp held her legs open with a lot of force while he raped her."

"Any DNA?"

"It's being processed. Until then, all I can tell you is that you're looking for a pedophile with a knife. Sorry."

Warner went back to work. Munch and Fin exited the office and Munch leaned against the wall.

"You okay?" Fin asked.

"I just saw Warner take out a six-year-old girl's stomach. No, I'm not okay."

"You need a break."

"No, I need to find the perp," said Munch. He took from his pocket the picture of Jessica that the Turners had brought with them to the hospital. "Look at her. It was taken two weeks ago. Just two weeks ago."

Fin looked. Jessica had been a pretty little girl, with bright green eyes and curly brown hair in ponytails. The picture showed her sitting on a swing – the same swing she had been found near – and smiling.

"Who's that?" asked Fin, pointing to a man in the corner of the photo.

"I don't know. He's looking right at Jessica."

"We don't know that for sure, but it does look like it."

"Let's get his picture enhanced. We can see if anyone recognizes him," said Munch, taking a closer look at the strange man in the corner.

"I hope they do. I want to catch this guy just as much as you do."

"No, you don't," said Munch to himself as he put the photo back in his pocket.


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: **Alas, they still don't belong to me. If they did, I'd be a character on the show dating Elliot. But they don't belong to me. Damn it.

**CHAPTER THREE**

**DOINK-DOINK**

Munch, Fin, Elliot, and Olivia were gathered around their desks, updating each other on the case. Just as Munch pulled out the photograph of Jessica and the enhanced photo of the strange man, Cragen walked up, accompanied by a woman none of them recognized.

"Everyone," he said. "This is Detective Caroline Schmidt from Albany."

They all turned to look at this stranger. She seemed an unlikely gun-wielder. Her five-foot-two stature, makeup-free face, and dark, wavy hair worn in a loose braid made her look like a liberal arts student rather than NYPD. Despite his state of melancholy, Munch found himself stealing a glance at her small but cute figure, accented by black slacks and a short-sleeved blue blouse. The second he realized he was staring, he snapped his eyes back to her face, which was just as pleasing as the rest of her.

"I'm brand new to Special Victims and the captain wants me to be a sort of fifth wheel on this case," said Caroline. She seemed soft-spoken.

"Sure," said Olivia with forced amiability. "Come on over."

Caroline smiled shyly and put on a pair of square-framed glasses. Elliot shifted to allow her to join the group.

"What do we have so far?" Caroline asked politely.

"We have this little girl," said Elliot, showing her the photo. "She was raped and murdered, found in Central Park."

"Dump job?"

"Doesn't look that way. The wounds were too fresh when we found her, and someone would have seen. It was a playground at two in the afternoon."

"No one saw?"

"From what we can tell, no one knew anything about it. No one saw or heard a thing," said Munch. "Apparently her babysitter, Melissa Volley, is missing, too. We're checking into that."

"Perp was probably after the babysitter," said Caroline, adjusting her glasses.

"What makes you say that?"

"She's missing, the child she was with is dead."

"She could have run off," said Elliot.

"Did you do a tox screen on the body?"

Everyone looked at each other. Caroline didn't notice because she was staring intently at the photograph of Jessica.

"No, no we didn't," said Munch. "Not too many six-year-olds shoot up."

"Not voluntarily."

Caroline looked up to see everyone's confused looks. She gave a strange half-smile.

"No one heard anything, right?" she continued. "Strange, isn't it? Have the ME check for sedatives. A little girl being attacked would make some sound."

She was greeted by silence and more Looks.

"More? Okay…how's this for a theory? Someone wants to get to Melissa, so they sedate the child. They realize Jessica could still rat them out, so they kill her."

"Theories…she's your kind of girl, John," said Elliot.

"It's a nice try, Schmidt –" Munch began.

"Caroline," she corrected him.

"Caroline. It's a good theory, but it doesn't explain the rape."

"I know," she said, frowning. "So I guess we'll have to figure out where it fits in."

"While you're figuring it out, we've got to find Thomas Mayhew," said Olivia.

"I'll go with you," said Caroline, standing up.

"That's okay. We've got it under control," said Elliot.

Caroline nodded and smiled a good-bye, then sat back down. She looked back at Munch and Fin.

"Are you going to call the ME or should I?"

"I don't think a tox screen is necessary," said Munch.

"Better safe than sorry."

Fin hesitated, then picked up the phone. While he talked, Caroline glanced at Munch a few times, then spoke outright.

"I can't remember your name," she said apologetically.

"John Munch."

"And I saw your partner's name written down but I can't pronounce it."

"Odafin Tutuola. He just goes by Fin, though."

"And the other two were Elliot Benson and Olivia Stabler?"

"Switch the surnames."

"Oh."

"Caroline, are conversations with you always going to be this awkward?"

"Sorry. I'm not the best when I first meet people."

"Warner wants to know if I'm psychic. She just finished a tox screen and she was about to call us. Wants us to come back," said Fin as he hung up.

Caroline looked at Fin hopefully. He sighed, wishing they could leave her behind, but gave in at her puppy dog eyes. She looked like a kid being picked last for dodge ball.

"Get your coat," he sighed.

"Your victim had a large dosage of morphine in her system," said Warner. "But I can't find where the needle entered."

"Did you check under her tongue? Between the toes?" Fin inquired.

"Yes."

"Then how can you be sure it was injected and not…I don't know…squirted down her throat or something?" asked Munch.

"It wasn't in her digestive system. Detective, what are you doing?"

Caroline had walked right up to Jessica's body and was peering closely at her head.

"Check behind her ears," she said.

Warner seemed confused, but she obliged. A second later, she was looking at Caroline in astonishment.

"Found the puncture," she said. "Behind her left ear."

"How did you know to look there?" asked Fin.

"We dealt with a junkie who injected themselves there once," said Caroline. "I figured it could happen again."

Warner went to record these findings. Munch and Fin didn't know where to look. Caroline didn't seem outwardly pleased with herself. She kept looking at the body, then at Fin. Finally, Fin had enough.

"What, Caroline?" he asked, uncomfortable.

"I wish you trusted me," she said quietly. "I'm good at this job. I'm not going to sink you."

"What makes you think I don't trust you?"

"You were the only one who didn't fill me in on the case. It's okay. We'll get there. Just have a little faith in me."

Caroline retreated to the other end of the room. Fin watched her for a moment, then turned his eyes back to Munch. This girl was certainly an interesting edition to the Special Victims Unit.


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: **I didn't own them yesterday. I don't own them today. I probably won't own them tomorrow.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**DOINK-DOINK**

"Thomas Mayhew?"

Olivia waited before pounding on the door again. There was the sound of a lock being turned and the door opened slowly. An older man gazed warily back at them.

"Are you Thomas Mayhew?" asked Olivia.

"No," said the man. "I am Georges Dozier."

Dozier's accent was thick and guttural. He seemed unnerved at having two strangers at his door.

"Mr. Dozier, we're police officers. Could we come in and talk to you?"

"I did nothing."

"Sir, you're not a suspect. We just need to ask you a few questions," said Elliot.

"Repeat, please?"

"Sir, do you need a translator?" asked Olivia slowly and clearly.

"Translator, yes. French," said Dozier. He shut the door.

Elliot was almost amused. He pulled his cell and dialed Munch.

"Hey, Munch, it's Elliot. You speak French?"

"No…sorry," said Munch, sounding slightly confused. "Hey, Fin, know any French?"

"Bonjour and au revoir," Elliot heard Fin say.

"I speak French," came a female voice.

"Who's that?" asked Elliot.

"Caroline Schmidt," said Munch. "I'll let you talk to her."

A pause, a shuffle, and Caroline's voice sounded once again over the phone.

"Hello? Detective Stabler?"

"Yeah, hi. You speak French?"

'I do. Enough to help, I think."

"Fine," said Elliot.

He gave Caroline the address and she relayed it to Munch. She arrived fifteen minutes later, flanked by Munch and Fin.

"What's the situation?" she asked.

"Man's name is Georges Dozier. He won't talk to us without a translator," Olivia explained.

"Suspect?"

"We're not sure," said Elliot. "We found the card of a Thomas Mayhew at the crime scene. Social worker. This address was written on the back of it."

"Okay. I'll check it out," said Caroline. She smoothed her braid and knocked on the door. "Monsieur Dozier, ouvrez la porte, s'il-vous plait!"

Dozier opened the door and allowed the detectives – all five of them – to enter. The house was very cold and decorated in whites and creams. A large and beautiful painting was leaning against the wall. Caroline began chattering away at Dozier in what sounded like perfect French. Ten minutes later, she was shaking his hand and leading the others out the door.

"What did he say, who's Thomas Mayhew, and where did you learn French?" asked Elliot.

"Thomas Mayhew is an unknown. The only person he's seen since yesterday was an Elena Monceau. She delivered a painting to his house. And my mother spoke French," Caroline relayed. "I got Monceau's address and number. She speaks English fluently."

"Let's go," said Olivia.

"Yeah, we should, in case she's involved and Dozier tips her off," said Caroline.

"We don't need more than two of us, but if she starts raving in French, we'll give you a call," said Olivia.

Caroline looked slightly deflated. "Okay. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"We will," said Elliot as he and Olivia left.

Munch led the way back to the car. No one spoke. Even though Munch felt less than friendly towards the newcomer, he still thought Olivia had touched a nerve somewhere. Caroline seemed decent and she had already proven herself to be at least capable at investigation. He had just opened the car door for her – just as a gesture of kindness – when she jerked it out of his hands.

"I can do it myself," she said quietly.


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them. But I will accept any donations available to help get one step closer to doing so.

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**DOINK-DOINK**

"You seem tense," said Elliot as he and Olivia drove to the Monceau residence. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. This is a tough case, that's all," said Olivia, looking out the window.

"Nothing to do with Schmidt waltzing in wearing a pretty blouse, jabbering in French and magically finding punctures the ME couldn't?"

Olivia gave him a hard look. "She's just precinct candy, El. She's a gimmick. She's been here for, what, five hours? It's beginner's luck."

"She's not a beginner, though, Liv. She _was _in Homicide before."

"She just bothers me is all."

"Because you're used to being the only woman?"

"Because she's trying to be a hero!"

Elliot twiddled the steering wheel. "Look, I know how you feel about her. She's weird. I can't figure her out either and I can't imagine what she's going to be like in a dangerous situation. But she could come in handy. Just give her a chance. Get to know her."

"I don't see you offering a ride-along," Olivia pointed out.

"Yeah, but I was nice to her. Come on, Liv, you're better than that."

"Fine. I'll be nice to her."

"I'm not saying you have to be her best friend. Just don't rip out her braid."

Elliot pulled the car over in front of a slightly run-down apartment building. A few children played with a basketball out front.

"Hey, guys. Does Elena Monceau live here?" Elliot asked them.

"Yeah. Apartment 14B," said a boy who looked to be about fifteen. "I'll get her."

"Thanks."

Elliot looked around. It was quite a rough neighborhood, a world of difference from Dozier's house. A little boy was looking at the detectives curiously. Olivia smiled at him and showed him her badge. As he smiled back, the older boy returned with a kind-faced woman with a regal air about her. She wore a long gown and her hair was hidden under an elaborate wrap.

"Elena Monceau?" asked Olivia.

"Yes, I am," she said, smiling. "Are you new social workers?"

"No, ma'am, we're detectives."

"I see. Please, come in."

Elliot and Olivia followed her down a dark hallway. Inside her small apartment, two children sat on the floor reading a book together. One child was black while the girl was Asian. A moment later, an older girl – white – joined them with her own book.

"I apologize for the mess," said Elena in her lilting accent.

"No, no problem," said Olivia. "Ma'am, we're here to ask you a few questions."

"What do you need to know?"

"Do you know a Thomas Mayhew?"

"Yes, he's my social worker. I'm a foster mother and he checks on the children."

"Do you know the Turner family?" asked Elliot.

"Oh yes, very well. Their son, Alan, was in my care when they adopted him," said Elena as she lifted a baby out of a crib. "Are they all right?"

"Do you know their daughter Jessica?" asked Olivia, keeping her voice down for the sake of the children.

"Yes, I do…what's happened to Jessica?" Elena looked scared.

"She was murdered yesterday."

"That sweet little girl? My God…that's horrible."

"We think you may be able to help us find whoever did this to her," said Elliot. "We found a card at the crime scene belonging to Thomas Mayhew. On the back was an address for a Georges Dozier."

"Oh dear," Elena sat down and cradled the tiny boy. "I paint when I have time on my hands. I had given a few paintings to a friend as a gift and Mr. Dozier wanted one for himself, so he commissioned me to paint one. I wrote his address down on an old card of Mr. Mayhew's so I could deliver it. I suppose I dropped it at the park yesterday."

"Did you have any contact with Jessica?"

"I saw her leaving with a man and her babysitter. I panicked and called the police. I told them there was a strange man who could be a criminal."

"Why did you panic?" asked Olivia.

Elena took a deep breath. "You must understand. I was acting in what I thought would be Jessica's best interest."

"What do you mean?"

"I was supposed to be picking her up."

Olivia sat down. "You were supposed to care for Jessica yesterday? She had a babysitter."

"Mrs. Turner called me a few nights ago, crying. She begged me to take Jessica for a few days so she could leave her husband. Alan was staying with a friend of his – he's old enough. He's fifteen. Jessica needed someone to take care of her. Melissa couldn't. Mr. Turner would probably go to her first thing. It was too dangerous."

"Mr. Turner's a dangerous man?" asked Elliot.

"Oh, yes," said Elena. "Mrs. Turner told me how he hurt her family. I couldn't bear to think of little Jessica going through what she did. I said I would do anything to help. But when I went to the park to meet with her, I saw a man with sunglasses and a hat taking her and Melissa away. I don't know if it was Mr. Turner, but it doesn't matter. Whoever it was took them away. I just panicked."

"I understand," said Olivia.

"I don't. How could anyone hurt such a little girl? And Alan is a wonderful young man. Mrs. Turner said her husband hit her and Alan with a phone book!" said Elena, sounding sickened. "And after what he did to Jessica…"

"What did he do to her?" asked Elliot.

"He raped that poor little thing. His own daughter!"


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: **Surprise…I don't own them…

**CHAPTER SIX**

**DOINK-DOINK**

"Munch."

Munch's phone had ringed, thankfully breaking the tense silence that had been the car ride so far. He answered and heard Olivia's semi-frantic voice.

"You've got to get to the Turner household."

"Why?"

"Elena Monceau was supposed to be taking Jessica in for a few days until Mrs. Turner could collect her."

"What for?"

"Mr. Turner is abusive. Elena says that Mrs. Turner called her and begged her to look after Jessica until she could leave her husband, then she would go and get her. Mr. Turner beat her and Alan and raped Jessica. Make sure the DNA matches Mr. Turner for Jessica's rape kit to be sure he's the only rapist."

"You think he killed Jessica too?"

"It sounds like it. Elena was supposed to be meeting Melissa and Jessica at Central Park to transport Jessica to her apartment. She saw both of them leaving with a man wearing a hat and sunglasses – could have been anyone. She panicked and called the police about a possible pedophile in the park. She didn't want to approach because she thought if she did, it would set Turner off."

"So you're saying the call I responded to was made by Elena?"

"Yes! You've got to question Mr. Turner. He could have been the one taking Melissa and Jessica away. And if so, he'd know where Melissa is."

"Okay, got it. I'll go now. You take Turner's picture around the park. See if anyone noticed him, even with the hat and sunglasses. You never know."

"Okay."

"Just get there before he finds out we're on to him and does something desperate."

"I will."

Munch hung up and made the turn to head towards the Turner residence. Fin didn't say anything – he had probably been able to hear the whole conversation anyway. Caroline, on the other hand, predictably leaned forward.

"Speaking to me again?" asked Munch.

"What happened?" she asked, the faint spray of freckles on her nose wrinkled in curiosity.

"We're going to question Mr. Turner. According to Elena Monceau, he's our rapist."

"What's the DNA say?"

"Well, we don't have it back quite yet. If it matches Jessica's, though, we'll know."

"Not if she has an uncle. And doesn't she have an older brother?"

"What's your gut tell you?" asked Fin.

"Let's check out this dad some more."

No one was at the Turner home when Munch, Fin, and Caroline arrived. Fin pounded for a good three minutes, but no one responded. When they turned to leave, Caroline put her hand on the railing.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, pulling her hand back sharply.

"What?" asked Munch.

"I don't know. Something poked me."

"Where could he have gone?" asked Fin, steering the topic back to Turner.

"No clue. Where's his work?" asked Munch.

"He works from home, he said."

"Maybe he ran an errand."

"Yeah. We'll try again in a little while. In the meantime, let's find out what we can about Alan's whereabouts and where Mr. Turner could be besides home. Maybe he has some regular appointment at this time. Or maybe he's stashing Melissa's body somewhere," said Caroline.

"We don't know she's dead," Munch pointed out.

"Do _you_ think she's alive? If he's our guy, he didn't think twice about killing his daughter and pouring acid on her stomach. I don't think he'll have much guilt about killing the babysitter – who, incidentally, was helping get Jessica out of the house so that Alan and Mrs. Turner could escape. Something like that would send an abuser into a rage because they'd be losing control over their family."

"I know that."

"If Mr. Turner is really an abuser – beating his kids, raping his daughter and probably his wife – what's to stop him from doing the same to Melissa? And has anyone even asked about Melissa yet? Or are we fixated on Jessica? Because if we find Melissa and find Turner's DNA anywhere on her, we can nail him for that and then nail him for the rest, if that's in fact what happened. I think what we should do is –"

"Look," said Munch, losing his patience with Caroline's endless matter-of-fact speeches. "Why don't you leave this to us and just observe?"

"Mr. Turner abused his wife, Jessica, and Alan. No telling what he did to Melissa," said Caroline, totally ignoring Munch's outburst as they all climbed back into the car.

"I'll buy it for now. I still want to know how no one saw him taking them away."

"Someone did. Elena."

"Okay, fine. So how come no one saw him leave the body there?"

"I don't know, Caroline, let's find out together, shall we?"

Caroline looked slightly wounded and fell silent. Fin gave Munch a quick Look. Munch didn't want to, but he apologized anyway.

"Sorry. I don't mean to snap."

"Not like I've gotten anything else from you people since I got here."

"Well, that's why I'm apologizing."

"Hey, Caroline," said Fin suddenly, turning to face her. "You okay?"

Munch glanced in the rearview mirror. Caroline looked very pale and her face had gone strange, as though she were trying to work out a hard math problem.

"I don't know," she said. "Can I step out for a second?"

Munch pulled the car over and stopped. Caroline got out and leaned against the trunk for a second, taking deep breaths. Fin turned to Munch.

"What's up with her?"

"Did I upset her that much?"

"I don't know. Does she seem like a crier?"

"Yes."

"John, get out of the car," said Fin suddenly.

Munch got out and realized that he couldn't see Caroline. The men went around the back of the car and found her kneeling on the ground, vomiting violently. She looked up at them, shaking, and threw up again. Fin put a and on Caroline's back as she choked and held the few locks of hair that had broken loose back with the other.

"It's all right. Deep breaths."

Caroline leaned her head back, took a breath, and immediately lost consciousness.

"Damn! John, call a bus!"

Munch dialed the number and told the dispatcher the information. Fin checked for a pulse, all the while muttering "stay with me". As he looked at Caroline's pretty but sickly face and Fin struggling to keep her alive, Munch wondered just what the hell the Special Victims Unit had gotten themselves into.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it. I don't own it. Me no owney. And no, Caroline's not pregnant.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**DOINK-DOINK**

"Is she okay?"

Fin had stayed at the hospital to wait for Caroline while Munch went to try and locate Mr. Turner. A doctor had just approached.

"She'll be okay. She got here pretty quickly."

"What's going on with her?"

"She was poisoned. We evacuated her stomach and she came to. She had been injected with Picrotoxin, probably when checking out your crime scene. She mentioned feeling a prick when she touched the railing."

"When can she leave?"

"Whenever she's ready. She's not feeling great, but she's healthy enough to function. It's safe for her to leave at any time."

"Thanks, doc."

Fin was just about to call Munch when Mrs. Turner approached, tailed by a skinny fifteen-year-old boy.

"What happened?" she asked frantically. "Did George hurt your detective?"

"How did you know about that?"

"A friend of mine is a nurse here. She said NYPD brought in a detective who'd been poisoned. I thought it might be that other one – Benson – was it?"

"No, ma'am. This was a new detective. Caroline Schmidt. Why don't you sit down?"

Mrs. Turner sat. Alan stood awkwardly behind her.

"Mrs. Turner, do you have any idea how Detective Schmidt was poisoned at your residence?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Turner. "George set up a hypodermic needle on the railing. He said it had some poison on it. I don't know what kind."

"So you knew about the poison?"

"Yes."

"You didn't tell anyone?"

"I couldn't get away until just now. He had to get to his appointment. He had to meet his doctor – he's diabetic. He can't know where we are. Is there somewhere we can hide?"

"Where did he take you?"

"A Holiday Inn on Broadway. Martinique. 49 West 32nd Street."

"We'll find somewhere for you to go. Where can we find your husband?"

"He'll be going back to the hotel in about an hour."

Cragen chewed thoughtfully at the licorice whip in his hand while he listened to Munch explain where Fin and Caroline had disappeared to.

"…and then we rushed her to the hospital, where we're still waiting to hear from," he finished.

"Okay, Munch. Why don't you –"

But Cragen didn't finish that thought. Munch's phone rang. While he went to answer it, Cragen turned to Elliot and Olivia.

"What have you found out about Melissa?"

"She's twenty-three years old. Her only relatives, her parents, are out of town on a vacation in Europe and aren't answering their phone calls. We're going to keep trying to get in touch with them. But that explains why no one filed a Missing Persons report," said Elliot.

"The Turners could have done that."

"Not if they're focused on Jessica," said Olivia.

"Got him!" said Munch, rejoining the group triumphantly. "Fin found the son of a bitch at a hotel on Broadway."

"Where are Mrs. Turner and Alan?" asked Cragen.

"On their way to Mrs. Turner's mother's house. And Caroline's fine. She checked herself out a little while ago. She's coming here as well. I can't wait to see what the bastard's got to say about poisoning a member of the NYPD on top of everything else."

"Let's give you and Fin a break when he gets here. Elliot, Olivia, you question Turner. Munch, my office."

Munch, totally bewildered, followed Cragen into his office and sat down. Cragen stayed standing, hands on his hips.

"What's going on, Captain?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," said Cragen. "John, something's wrong. I can tell. What's the matter?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I've never seen you get so fired up about a case that doesn't involve a government conspiracy. You holding out on me?"

"It's just…I don't know."

"Try again. I've done this for a long time. I know when someone's not telling me everything."

Munch took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "This is something I've talked to Olivia about. She'd know. I told her about…I told her about a little girl I sort of knew growing up. She was abused and died by being thrown through a plate-glass window by her mother. I've always carried that guilt around with me…because I didn't do anything about it. I didn't tell anyone about the time she had a black eye or the time her lip was bleeding or when she had a cast on her arm. I just didn't care."

Cragen looked at Munch for a long moment. Both were silent. Munch replaced his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"When I saw that little girl lying on the ground covered in blood, I saw the same little girl who lived across the street from me. Jessica even looks a little like her. I just can't understand what makes someone look into the face of a sweet little child and want to hurt them. I saw Jessica's photo. I saw what she once was. She was absolutely beautiful. Someone took that baby's innocence and watched her die, and I'm not letting that someone get away with it, whether it was her father or not. I'm going to find this guy. Period."

"I think," said Cragen slowly and carefully, a little taken aback with this unusual sharing of emotions from the usually quiet detective. "That you should back off."

"No," said Munch firmly.

"You're too passionate about this case."

"No."

"John, look, you'll blow a gasket if you stay on it. You need a break."

"Captain, I can do this and I can do it right. Let me prove it to you."

"Fine," Cragen sighed. It looked as though he were going against his better judgment. "But don't cross any lines or I will remove you from the case."

"Thanks, Captain."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer: **They. Are. Not. MINE! And this chapter's a long one, so get comfortable.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**DOINK-DOINK**

Caroline burst back into the precinct the next morning with a fire no one had yet seen. Her eyes were blazing and she looked as though she wanted to strangle someone. Munch looked up from his desk, unfazed.

"Stress ball?" he offered, holding his out to her.

"Where is he?" she demanded. Her hair was back from her face again, this time in pigtails. She looked adorable. "Where's George Turner?"

"In the interrogation room. Are you sure you're okay to be here?"

"He lawyer up yet?"

"No. Apparently he confessed to being a little rough with Alan, but he won't say anything about Jessica or his wife."

"Define 'a little rough'. A little rough like poisoning him?"

"He said he pushed him around once or twice because Alan's a problem child, but everyone else we've asked says he's a saint."

"Let me talk to him."

"Elliot and Olivia are taking care of it."

"Just Elliot," said Olivia's voice from behind them. "I had to leave."

"What happened?" asked Caroline.

"He called me 'sweetheart'. Pissed me off."

"Schmidt," said Cragen. "Do me a favor. Go to Alan's school. See if anyone knew about domestic abuse. We get another witness, we might be able to get Turner to confess to abuse at least."

"Okay."

"John, go with her."

"Captain," said Elliot from the door of the interrogation room. "I need a break. Munch, you want to take over?"

Munch looked from Elliot to Cragen to see where to go. Cragen hesitated.

"I could go with her," said Olivia after a moment.

"Fine. You ladies go check it out."

Olivia and Caroline left and Munch stood up. He took a deep breath and entered the interrogation room, hoping to resist the temptation to bash Mr. Turner's head in.

In the car, Olivia took Elliot's advice and tried to be friendly to Caroline. She found that, despite everything, Caroline was quite sweet and easy to talk to. In fifteen minutes, Olivia learned that Caroline had originally wanted to be a writer of detective novels but discovered that she wasn't satisfied putting away fictional criminals. She went into Homicide because her father had been a detective in the same unit. After he passed away a year prior, she had made plans to transfer.

"Wow," said Olivia as Caroline finished this last bit of information.

"Yeah. What's your story?"

"Child of a rape, decided to go into NYPD, came to Sex Crimes. That's pretty much it."

"Yeah, well, what about…"

"What about what?"

"You know…"

"No, I don't."

"Your partner."

"Elliot? He was in the Marines and –"

"No, no, I mean what's up with the two of you?"

"You mean together? Nothing."

"Really?"

"Really. We're close, but not romantically so."

"It's just hard to believe. You two would be a great couple."

"You're not the first to say that, but neither he nor I feel that way about each other. We're partners, that's it."

"Well, that's nice to see you two are so close, though. You obviously have each other's backs. I guess since I don't have a partner-partner…you know, an official one yet…I guess I don't have that. My partner in Albany was kind of a jerk."

"How so?"

"Always took all the credit, made it seem like I wasn't fit to be a cop, and anytime he made a mistake, somehow it was the fault of me and my braids."

"Yeah, that sounds like a jerk to me."

"There's the school," said Caroline, pointing.

They got out of the car and went into the school. A gaggle of teenage boys looked Olivia and Caroline up and down, making gestures towards them and smiling. Caroline approached them.

"You guys know Alan Turner?" she asked.

"Why? You interested? Or is your mom?" said one smart mouth, gesturing to Olivia.

"The law's interested," Caroline retorted, showing her badge.

"Damn! You're a cop?"

"Detective Caroline Schmidt. This is Detective Olivia Benson, who is far too young to be my mother. Do you know Alan Turner?"

"Yeah, I know him," said another boy, much more politely than the first. "He's a friend of mine. Is he okay?"

"Why don't you come with me and we'll talk privately?" said Caroline. A couple of the boys chuckled and made that "whoo…" noise that annoyed Caroline greatly. "Oh, would you grow up?" she snapped at them.

As they went to find an empty classroom, Caroline turned to the boy she was leading.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Jeff Honnaker," he said.

"Okay, Jeff. You're not under investigation or anything, but I wanted to ask you some questions about Alan's home life. Anything you can tell us."

The three sat down in the classroom that Olivia had located. Jeff toyed with his uniform's tie while he spoke.

"Alan doesn't get along with his dad."

"They fight a lot?"

"Yeah. Alan came to school one time with a black eye. He said he got it playing baseball, but I knew. I told him to tell someone."

"Did he?"

"No. I almost did, but then he said he'd take care of it. I believed him. Did Mr. Turner hurt him again?"

"We're actually more concerned about what happened to Alan's little sister," said Olivia.

"Jessica?" said Jeff. "Yeah, I heard about that. She was a cute kid."

"Yes, she was. Do you think Mr. Turner could have done that?"

"Yeah. Once Alan called me from his room. He was crying and he said that his dad was raping his little sister in the next room. He said he had a knife."

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"Alan said not to. He said they were getting out of there anyway, but not to call the police until they were safe."

Jeff's eyes filled with tears. Olivia handed him a tissue. Caroline's cell phone rang.

"Excuse me for a second," she said, standing up and answering. "Schmidt…"

"She was such a sweet kid," Jeff went on. "I went to their house a couple times. When Mr. Turner was away on business. Alan loved her so much. We all watched a movie and Jessica fell asleep in his lap. I just don't understand what would make someone want to kill her."

"That's what we're trying to understand," said Olivia. "Is there any other information you can give us?"

"Yeah. The day Jessica died, Alan called me and said that he was scared. I told him to hang in there…I knew he and his mom were trying to get away. He was staying at my house. I said that he'd be okay. He said that no, he wouldn't, because his sister was dead. He came back to my house a few hours later and his mom went with his dad to see Jessica in the hospital."

"He knew Jessica was dead before his parents even got to the hospital?"

"He didn't know for sure. He said he could feel it, though."

"That was Munch," said Caroline. "They found Melissa."

"Okay. Jeff, thank you very much for all your help," said Olivia. She handed him her card. "You call me if there's anything else you can tell us."

"I will."

Jeff left the classroom.

"Where's Melissa?" Olivia asked Caroline.

"In a dumpster on 113th Street."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer: **All I own is a few CDs, some clothes, and a rubber chicken key chain. Not SVU.

**CHAPTER NINE**

**DOINK-DOINK**

"She was stabbed three times and had a lot of her hair ripped out. Her murderer poured sulfuric acid into her wounds. She's been dead for a couple of days."

Warner was explaining to Caroline and Olivia what happened to Melissa. The remains of the chubby woman lay on the table, cold and still.

"Was she raped?" asked Caroline.

"No. There's no sign of sexual trauma at all. But I can tell you about the weapon now."

"Yes?"

"She was stabbed with a pair of scissors. Big ones, like the kind you'd use to cut fabric. Based on the shape of the wounds, my assumption is that they were the kind with an attached seam ripper."

"A seam ripper?" said Caroline. "Those are like little daggers themselves."

"And look what we found near the dumpster," said Warner, showing them.

"Idiot leaves the weapon behind?"

"Idiot also leaves a perfect thumbprint and some of his own DNA."

"How did his DNA get on the scissors?" asked Olivia.

"He pricked himself on the seam ripper. I checked the DNA. It's a match for Jessica, meaning it comes from the same family."

Warner put the scissors down and picked up a soda can.

"This," she continued. "Was a soda Mr. Turner enjoyed the day he was arrested. It was found in the hotel room where he was keeping his wife and son hostage. I compared the DNA."

"And?"

"It was a match. Turner is definitely the murderer of Melissa Volley and his daughter Jessica."

"And Jessica's rapist as well."

"Well, no, actually," said Warner. "The semen I found inside Jessica didn't match Mr. Turner."

"Who else could it be?" asked Caroline.

"I don't know," said Warner. "But I hope you find him before he strikes again."

"Well, well, well," said Munch calmly, looking Mr. Turner right in the eye. "We just got some very interesting information about Melissa Volley."

"Did you find her?" asked Mr. Turner eagerly. "Is she okay?"

"We both know she's not."

Turner leaned back in his chair. "Did she die?"

"You killed her, you sick bastard, just like you killed your little girl!"

"No! I never touched her."

"Explain how your DNA was all over the murder weapon, which you were too stupid to hide! You left it there, covered in her blood, with some of your own on it."

Turner was silent.

"That's right. We found your DNA on the murder weapon and on Jessica's wounds. Now explain to me why you felt the need to pour acid into the stabs."

Turner still didn't speak. Munch got very close to him.

"Listen to me. You better start talking right now or it's only going to be worse. You come clean. _Now_," Munch pulled away and crossed the room, crossing his arms.

"All right!" Turner looked as though he was about to freak out. "I did it. I had to!"

"Why did you have to kill your own flesh and blood?"

"_BECAUSE THE BITCH WAS TAKING HER AWAY FROM ME!_"

Turner threw his chair across the room, almost hitting Munch. Elliot burst into the room and restrained Turner against the table.

"Munch, go on. I got this."

"No. I want to hear what he has to say. What justification could this jackass possibly have for killing his six-year-old girl?"

"Allison," Turner panted. "Was leaving me. She was taking Alan and Jessica with her. I heard her talking on the phone one night. She said she'd take Jessica to Central Park for Elena Monceau to pick up. I was pissed."

"You were _pissed_?" Munch repeated incredulously. "You were so _pissed _that you killed?"

"I'd never see my baby again! I went to meet Melissa and Jessica at the park. I wanted to talk things over. I took them for a walk…and Melissa kept on evading my questions. I pushed her into the trunk of my car."

"Then what?" asked Elliot.

"I kept trying to get Jessica to be quiet. She wouldn't stop screaming. I had morphine with me, just in case…I got a doctor friend who gave it to me. I gave it to Jessica. But I realized that I wouldn't get away with just taking her, so I took her back to the park. I left her by the swings."

"After stabbing her."

"Yes." Turner had started to cry. "I never meant to, but she just kept crying. I saw the police coming up the path. I knew they hadn't seen me, but I left anyway. I was scared they would catch me."

"And they did!" Elliot yelled. "We caught you, George! You're through! Now explain to us why you raped and killed your daughter!"

"I never meant to hurt her," Turner sobbed. "I'm sick. I can't help myself. I don't know how to control it."

"If you couldn't have her, nobody could, right?"

"I don't know!"

"Got a little possessive, did you? Were you going to do the same to your wife?"

"Who else did you let have intercourse with Jessica?" Munch demanded. "We found someone else's DNA inside her. Alan says he heard you rape her, so who else did you let rape her?"

"No one," said Turner.

"You're lying, George. You tell me now! Who else raped your daughter!"

"My son!" Turner shouted. "Alan!"

The silence that followed was deafening.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Not yours, either. Unless you're Dick Wolf, in which case I highly recommend you contact me so we can chat about why Munch is getting to be less and less important on the show!

**CHAPTER TEN**

**DOINK-DOINK**

"Alan, we need to know the truth. Your father claims you raped Jessica."

"It's not true!"

"We need a DNA sample."

"He's not going to give you that."

"Ma'am, it could prove his innocence."

"I am his mother! I've already lost one child; don't put me at risk of losing another!"

Olivia was almost at her wit's end. She wanted desperately for the accusation against Alan to be false, but without a DNA sample, it was impossible to prove. Mrs. Turner was staunch in not allowing Alan to give up DNA.

"I am your mother. You won't. Not unless I say so."

"Mom, they need to know," said Alan, tears streaming down his face. "Can I just talk to you, Detective?"

"Is that all right, Mrs. Turner?"

"Fine. But don't try anything, Detective. I'll know."

Mrs. Turner left the room. Alan turned to Olivia, who sat opposite him.

"What happened, Alan?"

Alan swallowed hard. "I raped her."

"You raped your sister?"

"I didn't want to!"

"I don't understand," said Olivia. Alan was silent. "Did your father make you?"

Alan nodded. "He took pictures."

"Do you know where the pictures are?"

"Under his bed."

"Okay, Alan. I'm going to need your DNA to be sure you're not protecting anyone and then we'll get those pictures, okay?"

"Okay. How do you get my DNA?"

"A number of ways. You can give blood or just saliva."

"Here," said Alan. He took a pen out of his pocket and licked it. "I hate needles."

"Okay. We'll process it. Until then, you need to stay here."

It was nearly midnight. Elliot sat at his desk, head in his hands, staring at photo after photo of Alan and Jessica engaged in a disgusting act. The digital pictures were crystal clear, down to the very last tear on both the children's faces.

"Need a break?" asked Cragen as he came out of his office.

"Look at this, Captain," said Elliot, handing Cragen a particularly vile photo, which included Mr. Turner framing himself in the photo along with Alan and Jessica. Turner was grinning while the children copulated and sobbed. "Look."

Cragen looked at the picture with tired eyes. He let out a deep, long hiss of a sigh. He felt very old all of a sudden.

"And everyone says you'd never find nicer kids," said Elliot. "Tell me something, how does that work?"

"No idea," said Cragen. "I don't know how half the kids who live through that end up even partly normal."

"It's just hard to go home and see the photos of my kids and see how normal they are. I see _these _photos and…"

"I understand."

They were both quiet for a moment. Elliot looked through the last of the photos and closed his eyes for a moment. He fought back a tear and relaxed. It had been a trying day. Caroline came back from the vending machines carrying a handful of candy bars. She handed one to Elliot, one to Cragen, and put one on Fin's, Munch's, and Olivia's desks before opening the last for herself.

"Thanks," said Elliot. "But I couldn't eat."

"Rough stuff?"

"Take a look."

Caroline peered over Elliot's shoulder at the photos. Obviously, they upset her. Elliot had expected that. But neither he nor Cragen expected her to gasp, clap a hand to her mouth, and try not to sob.

"You okay?" asked Cragen.

"It's just…my God. I never…I'm not used to this."

"It takes time. You'll never really get used to it. It won't get altogether easier. But you'll get accustomed."

"That poor little thing."

"So, what's the deal with Alan?" asked Elliot.

"We're not charging him. George Turner admitted to forcing him to have sex with Jessica. He is, however, going to get psychiatric care…which I think we're all going to need after this case."

"Tell me about it," said Cragen.

"I'm heading out. See you tomorrow," said Caroline, grabbing her coat.

"Ready to leave?"

"Not just yet," said Elliot. "I'll be right out. Give me a second."

Cragen went into his office, retrieved his coat, and went out the door. Elliot knew he was waiting for him to be sure he didn't stay all night, so he was quick. He put the photos in an envelope, sealed it, and put them in a file. He pulled the photo of Jessica on the swings out and looked at her smiling face. He made the sign of the cross over himself, said a short prayer, and replaced the photo. Picking up his keys, he hoped that God had listened that night.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine, sadly. Someday? Maybe. Now? No. Last chapter, by the way. Enjoy!

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**DOINK-DOINK**

Fin, Munch, Caroline, Olivia, Elliot, and Cragen all sat in the courtroom, anxiously awaiting how long the judge would give Turner.

"…count one to run consecutively to count two…" the judge was saying. Munch's heart lifted slightly. Turner was never getting out alive, not with two sentences of twenty-five to life, one right after the other. "We are adjourned."

"Good work, Casey," said Cragen as Novak approached them.

"Anytime," said Novak, brushing her hair out of her face. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to the batting cages to pretend each baseball I hit is one of Turner's testicles."

"So?" said Caroline, looking around at everyone else, her braids framing her eager face. "Do I pass? Am I one of you now?"

"Um, Caroline, this isn't exactly a sorority. You transfer in, you're one of us," said Elliot.

"You know what I mean. I just helped you win a case. So…"

"Of course," said Cragen. "You were excellent."

Mrs. Turner approached, flanked by Elena Monceau and Alan.

"Hello," said Olivia. "How are you holding up?"

"Elena found us a safe shelter to stay at until we can set up house somewhere else," said Mrs. Turner. "So we're saying our goodbyes now."

"Thank you for helping us," said Alan.

"That's our job," said Olivia. "You call us once you're in a new home."

"I'm very grateful," said Mrs. Turner. "For everything you've done for us."

It was a touching and sad moment. Elena put her arm around Mrs. Turner and led her away. Alan gave a sort of half-wave and followed them. Caroline sighed as they left. She ran a hand through her hair and a bobby pin fell out. She leaned down to get it, and Munch couldn't help but take a quick look.

Without turning around, Caroline uttered something all too familiar to Munch: "Stop looking at my ass."

All the other detectives looked at each other, half-amused, half-amazed. Caroline glanced around.

"What?"

"Nothing," said Munch. "Lunch?"

"Your treat," said Elliot.

"Oh, come on…"

And off they all went, happy for their victory, mourning the loss of two good people, and content knowing that the new addition to the Special Victims family was perfectly capable of handling Detective John Munch.


End file.
